An Angel's Picnic
by PotterIsMyPatronus
Summary: Draco was due at the Dursley house any minute, and Harry was finding it hard to drop subtle hints about how his date for the day was male... One-shot, Drarry, HarryxDraco


**A/N: A random one-shot to quench my desire for Drarry. I know it doesn't have sex or anything in it but I find it cute and I have been obsessed with Harry's and James' hair ever since I read the Harry Potter series again. It's basically a cutesy little idea that I've been toying with for a while, because just wondered:**

**Hm, if Harry was gay for Draco (which I ship, always) what would the Dursley's think?**

**So I made this.**

**Enjoy!**

**Harry Potter and characters (c) J.**

**(As for the 'no post on Sundays', Uncle Vernon went to the newsagents earlier and picked up the paper. Problem solved.**

**Also, although somebody reviewed about a grammar issue, I proofread it again and can't find any mistakes D: Please tell me if you find some so I can fix them. Thanks in advance.)**

**Thank you for the review. I have fixed one of the grammatical errors I was informed of, but for the other, a cherry blossom tree is a type of tree, as I have one in my back garden which I am staring at right now. As I said, though, thank you for taking the time to review and correct some things. I can't see my own mistakes ^^"**

* * *

It was nearing Harry's fourteenth birthday and the Dursleys were in a good mood that summer Sunday so Harry decided to break the news – not that he wouldn't run away if they said no.

"Um, Aunt Petunia?" said Harry.

Aunt Petunia, who was arranging the assortment of roses she had placed on the windowsill, said, "What now, boy?"

"I am kind of in a relationship with… someone… so they've invited me out for lunch."

"One of your lot, is it?"

"Yeah."

"Are they picking you up?"

"Yes…"

"Fine then."

"They'll be here any minute," said Harry, and a blush started to creep up and colour his face.

A gentle breeze blew the branches of the cherry blossom tree outside, and the whispering rustle seeped through the window and filled the tense air in the living room with a tranquillity that was appreciated. Dudley was up in his room, doing who knows what, and Uncle Vernon was sitting in his armchair, paging through the Sunday Mail. All was normal, it seemed to the Dursleys, yet to Harry it was anything but.

It could go wrong so easily. Harry had known for a while now what was about to become open, and the Dursleys would just have to accept him, but despite all of the comforting words he whispered to himself, he was uneasy.

He could hear the pat of shoes up the cobbles path to the house. The porch door opened. _Don't ring the doorbell_, Harry begged internally, _don't ring it_…

**_DING DONG!_**

"So she's here, is she?" said Uncle Vernon, overhearing the conversation, despite his large newspaper blocking the way.

"Uh…" Harry flushed bright red, and was grateful to rise from his seat and unlock the front door.

Draco Malfoy stood there, feet just brushing the threshold separating the porch from the house, an awkward grin on his face. His platinum hair glowed even in the warm light of the house, and his handsome face was bordered by sunlight pouring in from outside. His grey eyes smouldered like smoke, hiding depths he only showed to Harry. Harry loved every part of him, from his smart black shoes to his slender build. From his cold, velvet lips to the strands of loose hair that fell in front of his eyes.

Aunt Petunia's and Uncle Vernon's mouths dropped to the floor when Draco kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry tucked his chin, letting his dark hair flop in front of his face it flamed with mortification. He'd never been so self-conscious in his life, and it was a mix of shame and bashfulness.

Aunt Petunia started to say something, but it all camped out in strangled noises. It was Dudley who broke the silence.

Dudley snorted, appearing from the top of the stairs. "You're _gay_?"

Harry gritted his teeth and looked up with fury in his eyes. It took all of Harry's self-control to supress the overwhelming urges to knock his wonky teeth out, and to force a dry smirk that stretched across his face. "It's your lucky day, isn't it, _Dudders_?"

"W-what?"

Harry rolled his eyes and held out his hand to Draco. "Let's go then, yeah?"

Uncle Vernon's fat, sausage-like fingers seized Harry's arm as he swung round to go. "Not so fast, boy," he said, dragging Harry back. "What would your parents think?"

"My… parents?" Harry said, gazing up with his big, emerald eyes that hid fear. The butterflies danced in his stomach worse than ever.

"Yes, your parents. Having a bent son. Imagine what that _freak mother_ would think, boy. Your mother was a freak, a loony and—"

Harry had pulled his arm out of Uncle Vernon's grip, grabbed Draco by the collar and crushed his lips to his. He didn't feel much, as he was determined to make it powerful. If he was going to feel something about Draco's kiss, it wasn't going to be because of family issues or proving rights. It was going to be special.

When Harry came up for air, he released Draco, who slumped against the wall in astonishment.

"What was that about my mother again?" said Harry sweetly.

Aunt Petunia stared with those bulging eyes and whispered, "Get out."

"Gladly," said Harry, dodging a slap from Uncle Vernon. He practically skipped out of the door, swinging his arms. Suddenly he froze, and then, with a burst of confidence, dashed into the house, straight upstairs. There was a tinkling like bells, and then Harry descended again, two steps at a time, with money jangling in his pocket. "I'll pay you back," he said.

This time, Uncle Vernon's hand made contact with Harry's jaw, but it caused Uncle Vernon more pain than it did Harry, as his arms were meaty, but feeble from lack of proper use. It did hurt Harry a little, but it was a throbbing pain he was able to laugh through to distract himself; and he did just that. Draco and Harry exited the house, away from the furious atmosphere in contrast with the comfortable appearance of the interior, chuckling. (**A/N: Try reading that sentence out loud :3**)

The fingers on Harry's left hand intertwined with Draco's, and with Harry's right he rubbed his sore jaw. One of the teeth creaked a little, but it was nothing magic couldn't fix in the blink of an eye.

"Where are we going today?" asked Harry, as the couple walked along the pavement, away from Little Whinging and, strangely, away from the city also.

Draco swung Harry's arm as they walked. "Surprise."

"Hm... a picnic?"

"How did you know? _Tell me!_" Draco demanded, trying to hide the woven picnic basket Harry had only just noticed.

A corner of the cliché, plaid, red and white picnic blanket protruded from the basket, telling Harry that he wasn't hiding grenades or some sort of Muggle explosive in there and it was indeed used for its purpose. You never knew with Draco.

Draco caught Harry eying the picnic basket and smacked his forehead with his hand. "Ugh, I am so stupid!"

Harry cupped his hands around the hand Draco used to whack himself and stared into Draco's eyes. "Don't worry, love, I still don't know where exactly we're going to have the picnic." He had a good idea, but he left that unsaid.

"No, no, no," chanted Draco. "I've ruined it; our first real date other than Hogsmeade is ruined."

"You haven't—"

"Yes I have! Don't try to comfort me."

"Draco…"

"I can't believe it, I should have been more careful, like maybe using a backpack instead, or a canvas bag…"

"_Draco_."

"I shouldn't have underestimated you. I should have known you would recognize it as a picnic basket, you are from a Muggle house of course... should have foreseen…" Draco put his head in his hands.

"_Draco Malfoy!_"

"_What?_"

"Keep walking."

Draco looked up, finding out that he had been oblivious to the fact Harry had walked on. The miniature Harry in the distance scowled, beckoning him over impatiently. With a sigh, Draco raced towards Harry, quickly catching up with him on his long, jean clad legs. Harry decided Draco must never take them off, as they complimented him perfectly and shaped his ass just right…

Dark, wild hair whipped Harry's face as he shook the thoughts away. This was an innocent date, no funny business.

Harry was all of a sudden aware of Draco's frown. The grey eyes were directed at… Harry's _hair_?

"What are you scowling at?" asked Harry.

"Didn't you think to do anything with your hair? This _is_ a special occasion, after all. First dates don't happen often." Draco smoothed his slick blond hair down again for emphasis.

Harry's face burned. "I tried, Draco, I did, but it doesn't cooperate."

"I know that's a lie. Hair doesn't naturally defy gravity," said Draco.

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, fine,_ you_ try and fix my hair if you think you can do better."

"I do."

Draco's long, pallid piano fingers tweaked the dark spikes of hair here and there, parting it and splitting it and combing it. Normally, Harry would take a swat at anyone who touched his hair, much like his father did, or so they told him. But Draco's fingers probing his scalp, defining and reshaping every strand of hair on his head, they were pleasant. Harry was actually enjoying it when Draco's fingers retracted.

"Finished," he said with a smirk.

Harry turned to one side and examined his hair, using the window of a vacant house. For a couple of brief, tranquil moments it was smooth, flat and, dare he say so himself, rather sexy, but then it bounced up like a spring and returned to its former crown of thorns.

"Told you," said Harry to Draco, who's fists were clenched in mock-annoyance.

"No need to rub it in, I brought you food. Lovely fresh food. I didn't have to give it to you."

Harry's ears pricked at the mention of food – something he didn't get a lot of at the Dursley house. Seeing Draco sneering there, relishing his superiority, struck fear into Harry's heart. Thinking about it, he could smell the scent of pastry, fruit and cold meats seeping through the holes in the woven basket. As he smelt it, he wanted it. His stomach growled with the lust for it. Reacting instinctively, Harry shrank down a little, widened his eyes to anime-size and pouted slightly in a manner that was, he hoped, the perfect puppy-dog-face.

"Don't take my food away, I beg of you," pleaded Harry, his eyes twinkling with fake crocodile tears.

It broke Draco's heart, and when Draco launched himself onto Harry's lips, Harry knew he had gotten the puppy-dog-face correct. He'd remember that for future reference.

It shocked Harry when he fell backwards onto… a field of flowers. His guess was right – they'd gone to the meadow, one that nobody went in because apparently someone died in a bathtub here,_ leaving the ghost to haunt and kill intruders_. (**A/N: Psh, as if! -scared-**) It was a beautiful meadow, and Harry visited it often when he had the time, as it was a place to either: sit and contemplate how his life sucked worse than everyone else's, or wallow in sorrow after a new horror raked through the already unstable strands of his sanity. It wasn't a happy place – Harry was eager for that to change.

Draco nibbled softly on Harry's bottom lip as his weight pressed them both deeper into the wild flowers. His tongue, burning like fire, subtly skimmed over where his teeth had been before, begging to be allowed into Harry's mouth. Harry obliged, and groaned as the tongue of fire touched his own. He could feel the sunlight on his eyelids that summer Sunday, and the picnic basket lay abandoned beside them.

When Harry opened his eyes, he saw Draco smiling down at him; the petals of a purple daisy caressed his cheek and right then, Harry couldn't imagine an angel looking any different.

Their lips crushed together again, moulding into one, sucking, and licking. They made each other's hearts race with desire, and teased each other with what they both wanted but weren't prepared for yet. Harry could feel Draco's pulse against his chest, and vice versa.

An intoxicating desire, perhaps a mixture of the love he felt for Draco, the heat of the sun and his hunger, surged through Harry's bloodstream and pulsed in his mind. He did what he'd never done before; he jerked sideways, and using their momentum rolled until he was on top of Draco.

Draco's breath hitched, but not because of the movement, or the feeling of their erections rubbing together, creating a hot friction – because in the light of the sun, Harry's eyes shone. They were filled with adrenaline, bravery, and – this was what startled Draco – infinite love.

And right then, he couldn't imagine an angel looking any different.


End file.
